The Christmas Rose
by SamoaPhoenix9
Summary: Holiday one-shot companion to "Kissed By a Rose." Christmas has come to the castle again, but the former Beast wants nothing to do with it. Can anything change his mind?


**The Christmas Rose**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast or any of the characters. Those belong to Disney._

_Author's Note: This is a companion one-shot to my full-length story "Kissed By a Rose." You don't have to have read that to understand this, the important thing to know is that Belle was three months pregnant when she arrived at the castle. Also, I've used some elements from The Enchanted Christmas, but most of the movie's events didn't happen._

_One last note before we get started: I've named the Prince as I saw fit. Please, please don't send me reviews or messages telling me Disney gave him an official name. It's not mentioned in the movie, and I therefore feel justified in choosing a name of my own for him._

* * *

"Mistress Belle, may I speak with you a moment?"

That was Cogsworth's voice. Belle smiled to herself. She had been hearing this particular phrase several times a day for the past few weeks. Smoothing her face out, she peered over her shoulder at the castle majordomo.

"Of course," she replied, "As long as you can tell me as I finish with Gwen." She wiped her baby daughter and reached for a clean diaper as she spoke.

In the first few weeks after Guinevere's birth, such a request would have affronted Cogsworth's tightly-wound dignity and caused some hemming and hawing on his part. Now, with the little girl just days shy of nine months old, Cogsworth was used to speaking with both his Mistress and Master as they performed various child care tasks.

"It's about the Master."

Belle twisted around to look at the heavyset man, her fingers stilling on the knot she was tying. "Alexander? Why? Is something wrong?"

"No…not precisely…" Cogsworth rubbed his chin. "It's just…no matter what we say, we cannot get him to make any decisions regarding the coming festivities. If Lumière or I attempt to speak to him about the matter, he either refuses to answer or orders us to leave him alone."

Belle sighed, finishing with Gwen's diaper. She should have expected this. In fact she was surprised the _servants_ hadn't expected this. After all, it was Cogworth who had cautioned her against making too much of the Christmas season last year.

But she couldn't fault anyone in the household for hoping things had changed for the better since last year. So many other things had changed. Last year they had all been prisoners in one way or another. Her husband, in particular, had been haunted by memories of ten years of misery imprisoned in a Beast's body, the result of a single callous decision on Christmas Eve. That he still wanted no part in Christmas was not really a surprise, even though he and the entire castle had finally regained their human shapes on the day Gwen was born.

Belle lifted her daughter, cradling the baby on her shoulder. "I'll talk to him," she said to Cogsworth.

"Oh, thank you, Mistress Belle," he sighed.

"I can't make any promises," she warned. "Much as I'd like him to stop brooding around this time of year and see how much fun Christmas can be, I can't _make_ him take part in any of it. He has to come to it on his own."

"_I_ understand perfectly," Cogsworth announced. "However, Lumière insisted that I speak to you. I only asked to halt his pestering."

"Of course," Belle murmured. She hid her smile. Cogsworth wouldn't let Lumière persuade him to do something unless the majordomo agreed with his _maitre d'_ at least to a degree.

Cogworth bowed. "And now if you'll excuse me, there are things that must be attended to in the kitchen."

Belle nodded to him and he departed. Gwen made a cooing noise as she watched him leave. Belle stroked the baby's dark hair absently as she thought.

"What are we going to do about your Papa?" she asked. Gwen cooed again and waved her arms. "I'm sure you'd know exactly what to say," sighed Belle. "You just can't tell me yet." Gwen had a way of charming her adoptive father out of any bad mood. Mrs. Potts, Gwen's nurse, insisted she had inherited this trait from her mother, but Gwen usually succeed where even Belle might fail.

She hefted her daughter. "Let's go find him, shall we?"

-0-0-0-

As she'd expected, Belle found her husband in the rooms they shared in the West Wing. Lumière passed her on the way in. The tall man was clearly exasperated; he threw up his hands and rolled his eyes expressively as Belle went by. She smiled apologetically and shrugged her shoulders to show she knew what the problem was.

"_Thank you,"_ Lumière mouthed to her before slipping out the double doors.

Prince Alexander was pacing when she entered the bedroom area of their suite. "I don't want—" he started to growl, and then stopped. His face and posture relaxed at the sight of his wife and daughter. "Oh, it's you," he sighed. "Thank goodness. I thought it was Lumière back again. Or worse, Cogsworth."

Belle came forward and they shared a kiss. He reached out, and she handed over Gwen without protest. Gwen gurgled delightedly as he bounced her.

"Lumière means well," Belle said gently.

"I—" He stopped, and studied her face for a moment. "You already know. Cogsworth got to you, didn't he?"

"It seems they coordinated their assault," Belle chuckled. "They _both_ mean well."

"Sometimes too well," he grumbled, but he sat on the bed, a sure sign he was relaxing.

Belle sat beside him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about. You already know the whole story."

"I _know_ the story," she replied, not put off so easily by his usual gruffness on a touchy subject. "But I still don't completely understand. Last year, you were afraid to hope. Christmas was still a painful time—it reminded you of everything you'd lost and might never have again. But this year…things are different. It's not even just us and the servants this year; all the local nobles and even the villagers are invited. Why not give it a chance?"

He was silent. Belle did not press. She just sat quietly watching him for cues. He wasn't as hard to read as he had been when he was a Beast, but there were times when she still found him completely opaque. Right now she couldn't begin to guess what he would say, or do.

"No," he finally said. "I can't. Please don't ask me to do this."

Belle couldn't help her shoulders slumping.

"Things _are_ different this year," he conceded. "But that just makes it even harder. Christmas wasn't easy before the spell. After my mother died, everything was just a reminder that she wasn't there. My father went around like a ghost, going through the motions because his people expected it, but his eyes were completely empty. The servants tried to make it a happy time, but things always ended up even worse for me than if they had done nothing. It all seemed so hollow and…and false. This year…I'm afraid…it won't…" He trailed off.

Belle just sat there, trying to keep the sadness and disappointment from her face. She understood his reasons, but she was only just realizing how much she had been hoping to have a family Christmas this year with the people she loved most. The knowledge that this was not going to happen was an unexpected blow.

But. In the midst of her disappointment, she had not missed his stammered "I'm afraid." For him to admit such a thing was an accomplishment in itself. He had such trouble admitting aloud to any feelings, good or bad, that Belle felt an odd sense of pride despite her frustration.

"I'm sorry, Belle," he said quietly.

Belle blinked. It seemed _he_ could read _her_ better than she'd realized.

He gave her a sad half-smile. "You have the same expression on your face when you were watching the gardeners take the roses out."

"I didn't know you were watching that day." One of his first orders when spring came was to order the removal of every rose bush and vine on the grounds. Belle had understood his need to purge any reminders of his painful past—a rose had symbolized his imprisonment and slowly dying hope for ten long years. But she loved roses, and to see them torn out of the ground and thrown away like trash had hurt her heart. She had watched from the West Wing balcony until every rose was gone. Only one regretful tear had fallen.

"I didn't say anything because I thought you were angry with me," he murmured.

She sighed. "I wasn't angry. I knew why you did it. Just like I know why you want to avoid Christmas again this year. I understand. I do. And I won't argue with you, though I think Cogsworth and Lumière are hoping I'll talk you around. You need time to come to terms with things. But it doesn't stop me from being a little upset about it."

He looked alarmed. "I don't mean to upset you. I promise. I just can't help how I feel."

"I know." Belle put her head on his shoulder and smiled down at Gwen, who had been quietly listening to this conversation in Alexander's arms. She gave the baby a finger to squeeze, and kissed her husband's temple. "I love you," she said in his ear. "I don't like to see you hurting at this time of year."

"I'm not _hurting_," he insisted immediately. "But, Belle, I can't change the past. I can't change what happened to my parents. Or the choice I made that Christmas."

"No, of course not." She stood up and disentangled herself from Gwen's strong fingers. "But you can make better memories so the bad ones don't seem so raw."

She let him consider this for a few moments before she smiled. "Just promise me you'll think about it. In return, I promise I won't bother you about it again, no matter what Cogsworth and Lumière say. Do we have a compromise?"

He chuckled, clearly remembering their compromise from the previous year—and that she'd been forced to explain the concept of a compromise to him before he would agree. "It's a deal."

"Good. Now we both have something to tell the servants if they ask." She peered out one of the West Wing's tall windows. "Look, it's starting to snow. Oh, look, Gwen."

"Her first snow," said Alexander, taking the baby to the window and holding her up so she could see. Gwen squealed and clapped her hands against the panes.

"I think that's a hint we should go out to the balcony," suggested Belle.

"Good idea, Gwen." Alexander gave the baby a gentle squeeze. "Let's go bundle up."

-0-0-0-

True to her word, Belle mentioned nothing about Christmas to her husband in the next two weeks. She herself spent a great deal of time assisting in the planning and decorating, and even helping with some cooking, baking and cleaning. Cogsworth grumbled that it was beneath the dignity of a royal princess to bake pies or polish silver, but Belle ignored him. The other servants enjoyed having her around and made no protest if she wanted to work beside them for an hour or two. She found such chores actually helped her get into the spirit of the season—it made the end result more worth it to know that she'd been a part of making it happen.

In turn Alexander took on more of his share of time caring for Gwen in order to leave Belle and Mrs. Potts free. They didn't discuss this; he simply did it without protest and with every appearance of delight. Seeing him so happy convinced Belle that she was making the right decision in not doing as Lumière and Cogsworth kept insisting she do: convince Alexander to take part in any way in the festivities. Mrs. Potts seemed to realize her Master and Mistress had come to some sort of understanding on the matter; she did not offer an opinion one way or the other, at least not in Belle's hearing.

Things reached a crisis point the evening three days before Christmas. Cogsworth ambushed Belle as she was coming in from walking Philippe, her horse.

"Mistress, you simply _must_ persuade him to attend the festivities," the majordomo began without preamble. "I have received correspondence from most of the former Regent Council announcing their attendance."

"We expected them to accept the invitation," pointed out Belle as she removed her cloak and hung it on its usual peg. "Why is this suddenly a problem?"

"They'll expect to see the Master at the Christmas dinner and gala afterwards. It will look odd if he's not present at any of the events we invited them to. They'll ask questions."

"We were going to tell everyone he's sick," Belle said, raising an eyebrow. Cogsworth was trying to get at something, she could tell, and she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Cogsworth's shoulders drooped. "It won't work, Mistress Belle. Remember I told the Council the Master had a debilitating illness that prevented him from taking his duties as ruler of the province? Instead of the, ah, truth?"

"Yes, of course." Belle nodded. Alexander had not been pleased, but the truth, that he had been transformed into a monster and his servants into living household objects until he found true love, would likely lead to questions of madness. Something the entire household wished to avoid.

"If we were to tell the Council that the Master is ill, they will likely assume he has had a relapse. It has only been nine months since he mysteriously 'recovered' after ten years' absence. Not only will it lead to questions we cannot answer, but they will fear that the rest of his reign will be marked by such disappearances. The stability of the province could be in jeopardy."

"But it's only one day—one _evening_," Belle gasped indignantly. "Surely—" But the look on Cogsworth's face told her he wasn't exaggerating for effect, and that his concern was real.

"My sincerest apologies, Mistress," Cogsworth said miserably. "Like you, I thought that the Master's avoidance of the Christmas festivities was a relatively minor irritation and that it could easily be explained away to our guests if you were unable to convince him to attend. It was the reception of the Council's acceptance letters that made me realize just what a problem this matter could be. But now it is vital that we persuade him to at least make an appearance."

"I promised him I wouldn't say anything about it, no matter what," Belle admitted. "But it seems as though I don't have much choice."

Cogsworth swallowed. "If you will come with me, _I_ will broach the subject to the Master myself."

Belle considered how best to approach Alexander. Should she get Lumière and Mrs. Potts involved as well? With Cogsworth, the _maitre d'_ and cook-turned-nurse were the closest of the servants to her husband and might be able to persuade him all together. Or would being so outnumbered make him feel put-upon and defensive?

"Let me talk to him. Alone," she finally said. "He did agree to think about it. I've given him a few weeks to think."

Cogsworth wiped sweat from his brow. "Thank you very much, Mistress Belle." He left immediately, every rounded line of him the picture of a guilt-wracked conscience. No doubt he felt doubly responsible for the mess, as it has been his idea in the first place to tell the Council Alexander had been 'ill' for over a decade. Belle also knew that Cogsworth was still of a somewhat nervous disposition and out of all the head staff feared their Master's temper most.

She found Alexander in the West Wing and had to pause as she took in the scene before her. Gwen sat in the middle of the sitting room, squealing with excitement. Alexander was hidden behind a small couch, and kept peeking his head out at random places to make faces at her. Every time he did so, Gwen would let out another crowing laugh. Seeing a man as tall and—usually—formidable-looking as Alexander squeezing down to keep his large frame hidden from the baby's sight, and the bizarre faces he was making, was so endearing that Belle had to laugh despite her unsettled heart.

The sound attracted Gwen's attention, and she squealed delightedly again at the sight of her mother.

"Gwen, what—" Alexander poked his head up from behind the couch again and caught sight of Belle. "Oh. Ah. Hello, Belle." His ears turned bright red as he saw her amused face. "We were just—"

"I see. I'm truly sorry to have interrupted." Belle couldn't help it. She gave an undignified snort of laughter. "I'm sorry," she gasped, "But I haven't seen anything so funny all day. That last face you made—"

"You mean this one?" Alexander made the face again as he crawled out from behind the couch. Both Belle and Gwen doubled over. Gwen laughed so hard she got the hiccups, and Belle picked her up off the floor to try and soothe her.

"You've been spending too much time with Cogsworth, if that's the funniest thing you've seen all day," Alexander remarked. He settled himself on the couch he had just been hiding behind and Belle sat beside him with Gwen in her lap. The mention of Cogsworth had reminded her of her purpose.

Alexander saw her expression shift. "What's the matter?"

"I…" Suddenly Belle couldn't find the words.

His face darkened. "He's been after you about Christmas again, hasn't he? Hasn't he pestered us both enough?"

"It's not only that." Quickly, she explained what Cogsworth had told her.

The room went very quiet. The only sound was Gwen's occasional hiccup, but the baby seemed to have sensed the shift in the mood. Her face was now solemn, almost troubled. Alexander stood up and kept his back to Belle, but he wasn't pacing—yet. He walked to the window to look out on the snowy grounds.

Belle sensed the explosion brewing. "I know I promised not to mention attending the festivities to you again. And I wouldn't have, if this hadn't come up."

There was silence for another minute. Then Alexander turned on his heel. His blue eyes were now sparkling with anger. "Find something else to tell the Council—and Cogsworth. I still won't be there," he snapped.

"But you—"

"I've made my decision." He stalked past her towards the doors. "I _don't_ want to hear about this again. Go ahead and have your Christmas without me."

He vanished before Belle could protest. She could hear his angry footsteps all the way down the hall until he turned onto the carpeted staircase that led to the rest of the castle.

Gwen whimpered softly. Belle swallowed her own tears of disappointment and frustration. She had hoped that in catching Alexander in a good mood she might have been able to persuade him it would be best for everyone if he attended the gala. That he might even enjoy himself if he gave it a chance. But he hadn't even stayed to hear her out. That mercurial temper of his!

"Humph!" she huffed, her own anger starting to rise. "Well, he can just—" Gwen's small noises of distress, growing ever louder, distracted her.

"Shhhh. I'm sorry," she soothed the baby, hugging her daughter close. "I didn't mean it, sweetheart. I promise. _He_ didn't mean it. He'll calm down, and everything will be better soon." This was said as much for her own benefit as Gwen's. Maybe saying it aloud would make it true.

Gwen wouldn't be soothed. She continued to whimper, almost on the verge of tears. At last, Belle began to sing a Christmas carol her own mother had sung, one that had the lilt of a lullaby.

"When blossoms flower e'er 'mid the snow

Upon a winter night

Was born the Child, the Christmas rose…"

Her voice started to waver as an image formed in her mind of forlorn rose bushes, their roots sticking wildly out in all directions as if wondering why they were no longer safe in the dark earth. Tears gathered again, but she refused to let them fall. She continued the song shakily, but at last Gwen started to relax, and Belle felt herself relaxing with her. Eventually the pair dropped off to sleep on the couch, Gwen curled in the circle of Belle's arms. Belle only woke, very briefly, when a finger, cold as if it had been outside in the snow a long time, touched her cheek.

-0-0-0-

When Belle woke again, she was in bed in the West Wing. Gwen was asleep in her cradle nearby. On Alexander's side of the bed, Belle could see someone had slept there but was already gone. With a heavy heart she got up to start the day. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and there was a great deal to be done as some of their guests would begin arriving that evening. She wished her father could be here to help her get through the day, but he had been gone on a monthlong jaunt around France showing off various new inventions. He wouldn't return until the day after Christmas.

It was lucky Cogsworth was bald underneath his wig, or he might have begun tearing his hair out when Belle gave him her news from the previous evening. He went racing off to find his Master and attempt to talk some sense into him, temper or no temper. Belle privately thought he was wasting his time, but the majordomo was welcome to try. Cogsworth found her an hour later as she oversaw the cleaning of one of the guest suites to report that he had been unable to find Alexander anywhere. Gwen was safely in the care of Mrs. Potts and her son Chip for the day.

"I wonder where he went," Belle said, half to herself.

"I have no idea, Mistress Belle." Cogsworth shrugged expressively. "Wherever it is, it's someplace neither Lumière nor I could think of. And I have left my other duties for far too long. I suppose he'll show himself when he's ready." The heavy man left, plainly still distressed.

Alexander stayed missing all day. Belle kept herself busy putting the finishing touches on everything, and, in the early evening, greeting the first round of guests who would be staying at the castle until after the Christmas festivities were over. She worried a little, but she knew Alexander. He liked to hide somewhere private when he was troubled. Since his former sanctuary, the West Wing, was now shared by Belle and Gwen, he'd obviously found someplace else.

As if by magic, her husband reappeared on cue for dinner with their guests. Belle had specifically ordered the dining room not to be decorated until Christmas Eve so that Alexander could attend without discomfort. They were seated at opposite ends of the table from each other, so she couldn't ask him where he'd been all day. He did note the lack of decorations, because she caught him looking around the room with a surprised, and slightly pleased, expression. When he saw her watching him, he gave her a small smile that looked almost shy and a nod of thanks. Comforted, Belle was able to converse with the people sitting near her easily for the rest of the meal. She couldn't help sneaking glances at her husband occasionally, however. He had little to say to his neighbors, though to Belle's watchful eye he didn't seem as ill at ease as he had at previous formal functions. He seemed more thoughtful than anything else. A pleasant relief from the last time she'd seen him.

He vanished again once they had seen their guests to bed. It seemed as if Belle blinked, and he was gone. She went to the library, thinking he might be there, but it was dark inside. Rather than look further, Belle retrieved Gwen from Mrs. Potts' care and spent the rest of the evening in the West Wing reading fairy tales aloud to the baby while Gwen admired the book's illustrations and made appreciative noises.

Bedtime arrived with no sign of Alexander. Belle laid an already-sleeping Gwen in her cradle, put on her own nightgown, blew out the last candle, and lay down. The bed seemed empty without her husband's presence. She tossed and turned, but eventually she settled into an uneasy sleep.

_She knelt on the stone causeway. Beside her the Beast lay, bleeding his life out. Unlike that fateful day nine months previously, she was bound with invisible ties, helpless to do anything but cry. She watched in horror as his head fell back and he was still._

_Suddenly she was free. She flung herself on his chest, but it was too late. He was gone._

"_No! No, wait! Don't leave me! Wait!"_

Belle sat up with a gasping cry. Tears were still pouring down her cheeks. She put her hands to her face and sobbed.

There was movement from beside her. Strong arms went around her and held her close against a bare chest. She breathed in, and Alexander's familiar smell washed over her. She could feel his hair brushing her shoulders through her own tangled locks.

"I dreamed you were gone," she whispered in a muffled voice. "I watched you die again…"

"Oh, Belle…" he breathed into her hair. "I'm here now. Don't be upset. I would never willingly leave you."

They sat that way until Belle's breathing had slowed and her tears had stopped. All the tension that had slowly crept between them over the last month ebbed. They'd been through so much already; all of the worry and upset about Christmas now seemed like a small thing in comparison.

Finally Belle felt ready to lie back down. Alexander kept one arm around her, and they fell asleep together with her tucked securely against him. Her sleep after that was dreamless.

-0-0-0-

The next morning when she awoke, Alexander was gone again, but Belle was not remotely bothered this time. She sailed through the day on a light cloud of contentment. The majority of her time was spent greeting guests in the cavernous front hall and showing off Gwen—most hadn't seen her since the baby was barely a month old. If asked, she said her husband was busy with other tasks, which even the members of the Council accepted without a blink.

Alexander again appeared in time for dinner. "Where have you been?" Belle whispered to him as she reached up to kiss his cheek. He just shook his head at her and flicked his eyes to someone approaching from behind. Belle turned to see the former head of the Regent Council coming forward to formally greet his Prince and Princess. The chance to coax anything out of Alexander for the rest of the evening was lost.

Belle kept an eye out once dinner was finished. She was determined not to let Alexander get away so quickly tonight. This time, when she saw him politely excuse himself, she did the same and followed. He was slipping back through the dining room towards the kitchen, and Belle realized she couldn't follow him there without her wide skirts giving her away. There was no room for such a formal dress in the crowded kitchen. With a frustrated sigh she turned back to her guests. Her curiosity would have to be satisfied some other way.

He reappeared in time for the Yule Log ceremony that Belle had initiated the previous year. This year all of the guests touched the log, and once they were gone up to bed, all of the servants as well. As he had the year before, Alexander appeared at the last moment. Belle was so pleased to see him she rushed up to give him a hug.

"Where have you _been_?" she demanded.

"Out on the grounds," he answered with a shrug.

"All day? Aren't you cold?"

"A little. But it's quieter out there."

Belle could not disagree. She held out the Yule Log for him to make his wish. He took it and closed his eyes briefly, then handed it back.

This year, Belle had her wish planned. _I wish Alexander could learn to enjoy Christmas. Maybe not this year, or next, but at some point in our lives together._

She put the log down next to the fireplace. It was an accomplishment in itself that she did not have to hide it as she had the previous year. She could take some small pride in that.

Alexander offered her his arm. "Shall we go up?"

"Yes, please."

-0-0-0-

Alexander was actually in the room when Belle woke the next morning. The pair readied for the day without speaking, but the mood was a companionable one. Belle hummed Christmas songs as she dressed first herself and then Gwen. Alexander did not object; in fact, when she got to "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" he made an attempt to hum with her. His pitch was atrocious, but Belle kissed him for the effort anyway. When finished, she went downstairs while Alexander took charge of Gwen.

Belle spent the morning with the servants, exchanging presents and watching them exchange presents with one another. Then the group scattered to perform their last-minute tasks before the dinner and ball that night. Belle went to Christmas Mass with most of their noble visitors. Cogsworth found her admiring the sparkling Christmas tree in the ballroom at about four in the afternoon and all but ordered her to go upstairs and change. From the way the man wiped sweat from his brow, Belle judged he still hadn't come up with an excuse for Alexander's absence that would satisfy the Council.

Neither Alexander nor Gwen was in the West Wing when Belle arrived. Babette, Lumière's lover, helped her dress. She did not wear the yellow gown Alexander had given her for Christmas last year—that was reserved in her mind for special occasions when she was certain Alexander himself would be present. Instead, she wore a cranberry-colored silk gown with a golden underskirt and stomacher, with a spring of real holly pinned into her brown tresses.

"You are beautiful, Madame Belle," Babette smiled, peering at Belle over her shoulder in the mirror. "It is such a pity you are already married, or you would have more suitors than you can count tonight!"

It was meant as a joke, but it sobered Belle. "I've had enough suitors to last me a lifetime, Babette." _And I already have the only one I want,_ she added silently. "I but I do appreciate the thought."

"Of course, Mistress." Babette bobbed a curtsy. "Mrs. Potts said to tell you she has already fed _la petite_ Guinevere, and will put her to bed at the usual time."

_And where is Alexander, then?_ wondered Belle. _Still hiding?_ "Thank you, Babette. I know you have other things to do before the ball starts."

"Yes indeed, Mistress! But it is a pleasure to do them, to have a proper Christmas in the castle again! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Belle called after her. Still smiling, she made her way downstairs to the grand dining hall.

Even having taken part in every step from conception to completion, Belle had to stop in the doorway to admire the effort. The entire room gleamed in the warm firelight. Pine garlands tied with red ribbons were everywhere they could be set, and twists of holly with golden ribbons peeked from every other available space.

The former head of the Regent Council came up to her with a bow. "This is splendid, Your Highness! I haven't seen such beauty here since His Highness's mother's days as hostess. You are to be congratulated on a job well done."

"Thank you. I had a great deal of help," Belle admitted.

"Of course. Offer my congratulations to your husband and to your staff as well."

"I will." Belle gritted her teeth over the half-lie. She would repeat the compliment to the servants at least, she thought virtuously.

"Shall we sit down?" The chief Councilman offered her his arm. Belle took it and allowed herself to be escorted to her seat. Dinner began, and nothing anyone said could coax her to speculate on Alexander's conspicuous absence. She had decided silence on the matter was best for the moment, and hope that it would fuel no gossip or rumors. The peace that had stolen over her as Alexander held her after her nightmare carried her through the entire meal and afforded her complete composure, no matter how well-veiled the questions.

She led the guests to the ballroom once dinner was over. Once she officially welcomed everyone and wished them Merry Christmas, music and dancing would begin that would carry on until well past midnight.

Cogsworth was supposed to nod at her from his post at the ballroom doors to indicate when everyone had arrived and it was time to begin. Belle found her place in the center of the room and looked back at the doors. No one was coming through them, yet the majordomo stood staring through them with his mouth agape. Belle's heart began to flutter. Could it be…?

The head of the household pulled himself together. He banged his official staff on the floor twice. Immediately all attention in the room went to him.

"Announcing his Royal Highness, Prince Alexander," Cogsworth intoned in his most official voice.

Into the room walked Alexander, as relaxed if he entered a roomful of staring people every day. He wore his formal blue tailcoat with the gold trim, and black breeches with matching trim. He came straight to Belle, who realized as he approached that she was smiling so widely her face was beginning to ache. When he got to her, she pulled him down into a kiss, not a polite royal peck on the cheek but a full-fledged kiss that expressed all of her joy at seeing him here tonight. He kissed her back just as hard, until they heard Cogsworth clear his throat from across the room.

"I'm so glad you came," she whispered.

He smiled and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, then turned to face the assembled guests. "Let the evening begin!"

The music and dancing began, but to Belle, that was all merely background sound. It was as if the room was empty, and only she and Alexander stood in the center of it.

Without speaking, Alexander led her through the crowd. No one noticed them in amongst the moving dancers, and they were able to slip outside onto the snow-covered balcony without anyone stopping them.

"Thank you so much for coming," Belle said. "I know it can't have been easy. But what made you change your mind?"

He glanced away, out onto the frozen gardens. "You were right," he said simply.

That was all, but that was all she needed. She didn't need to know what exactly she'd been right about. She understood that he was acknowledging he had been in the wrong, that he had lost his temper, and it was enough.

"Besides, how else was I going to give you your Christmas present?" he added more cheerfully.

"I—what?" She'd made him a book, similar to the one she'd created the previous year, but had been planning on giving it to him quietly in a day or two. She hadn't expected anything from him.

From within his tailcoat he pulled a narrow rectangular box. It wasn't wrapped or tied shut; it was just a simple blue box. Belle looked at Alexander for hints, but he only gave her a small, somewhat mysterious, smile. She lifted the lid and peered inside.

"Oh…" she breathed. "Oh, Alexander…"

It was a single red rose, just barely open, on a long, thorny stem. She lifted it out and breathed in the familiar scent. It felt like forever since she had smelled it.

"Thank you," she whispered. "But…how? Roses don't grow in the wintertime."

Now he grinned at her. "Come and see." He took her hand and led her down the stairs off the balcony and into the snowy gardens.

"But—" Belle glanced back at the lighted ballroom. Music still drifted down through the glass.

"We won't be gone all night," he said.

Despite feeling guilty for slipping out of the ball, Belle felt an odd, giddy excitement. Her steps were light as she followed Alexander through the grounds. He clearly had a specific destination in mind but she couldn't begin to guess where it might be.

"Is this where you've been the past few days that even Cogsworth and Lumière couldn't find you?"

He nodded. "I hope you didn't think I was still angry, Belle."

"I didn't know what to think," Belle admitted, "Particularly after my nightmare. I could tell you weren't angry, and I wasn't angry with you, but I didn't understand why you kept disappearing. I thought you just wanted time to be alone."

"In a way. But I wanted to be alone so that I could finish this." They came around a corner in the back edge of the gardens, right near the towering wall between the grounds and the forest. Tucked there was a tiny glass greenhouse, just big enough to hold one blooming rosebush.

"Now you can have roses all the time, summer or winter. And I won't have to see if they're out here."

Belle stepped forward and touched the glass gently. Her warm fingers frosted it, blurring her view of the rosebush a little. "It's perfect. But where did you find the bush?"

"I asked the gardeners what had been done with the ones I had torn up last spring. Some of them share your opinion about roses. They took a few bushes home. One of them even has a small greenhouse full of roses. He helped me put this together, in fact. I swore him to secrecy so you wouldn't find out before I could show you."

"It's perfect," said Belle again. "It's more than I ever imagined for this Christmas." She shivered—until this moment she'd forgotten her shoulders were bare. Alexander enveloped her in his arms as they stood admiring his handiwork.

"We should get back," she whispered. "They'll wonder where we went."

"Let them wonder for another few minutes," he whispered back. Belle couldn't find it in her to object. She was too comfortable, despite the biting cold.

"Have you made some better memories this year?" she wanted to know.

"I think I've started to." He paused. "Merry Christmas, Belle."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see with her head on his shoulder. "Merry Christmas," she replied.

* * *

_Author's Note Part 2: Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you've enjoyed this little ramble through our main characters' lives. I planned to write this ever since I wrote the Christmas chapters last year for Kissed By a Rose when I used some of the Enchanted Christmas in the story. That little moment at the end of the movie where the Prince gives Belle the rose is one of my favorites and I wanted to write the backstory for it. After Thanksgiving this year I looked up and thought "It's December now! I can finally write that Christmas story!" It ended up being longer than I expected, but I enjoyed it immensely._

_Oh, the song Belle sings to Gwen is "Gesù Bambino," an Italian carol composed by Pietro Yon. It was composed in the early 20__th__ century, but it was too appropriate not to use it._

_Best wishes of the season to all of you,_

_SamoaPhoenix9_


End file.
